J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye
Thursday, January 28, 2010
"When you're dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody."
J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye
J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye
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2 comments:
That quote reminds me of my father.
He didn't want to be put in the ground. For as intelligent as he was, he had a morbid fear of being dug up. He was fascinated and repulsed by mummies and all the ancient ruins. He thought it was wrong to disturb the dead, to excavate them.
He was the grandson of a full-blood Blackfoot Indian and apparently had told my mother more than once only half-jokingly that he wished it were possible to just take his body into the woods and prop it up against a tree.
Which reminds me of sitting in that funeral home flipping through an old book about different cultures' ritual concerning death and burial while my mother was in another room crying. I saw a photo of one of those indian hammocks. They'd build a hammock and hoist the dead up into the trees.
I think my father would've loved that. To be hoisted up into the sky.
As it is, I know he would've been pleased with our decision of cremation and scattering of his ashes in the ocean.
My father loved the ocean.
Gosh, I'm sad J.D died. But at least he lived his life the way he wanted to live it. Privately.
Thanks for posting that quote.
I still miss my father and always will but sometimes, like tonight, I can miss him without that awful ache.
When I was 13, we moved to KY from Virginia Beach, VA. My dad spent 30 years in the Navy. I can remember my parents discussing burial at sea, but I am not sure that such things were even allowed any longer. Then, there was no mention of death nor burial plans since that time (at least none that I heard).
So, Dad is in a coffin in the ground at a Veteran's cemetery about 35 miles from here. Mom will be buried in the same plot with her name etched on the back of his stone. They stack the spouses in the grave together.
I'm undecided at this point about what I want anyone to do with me after I am gone. Much like your father, I think of the native American burial rituals and think they had it right. I knew about the hammock, and there is also the structure they build with a ladder leading to the top (a scaffold type structure). The body is placed on the top with certain belongings and is left there for birds of prey to do as they will do.
I think your dad would have wanted it just the way your family planned it.
Some days I miss my dad so much the pain is all around, and I feel as if all the air has been taken from my lungs and I have to make myself remember to breathe. I become keenly aware of inhalations, exhalations, my pounding heart.
I can't cry much these days. After years and years of crying at the least little thing, these last few years in which many life-changing events have taken place, have found me largely bereft of tears. I don't like that. I think crying is part of healing.
Sometimes I feel so bottled up inside. I do everything I can think of to make myself cry, but no tears will come. Then there are those days when I am just driving along toward my destination, and I start to cry for no reason at all. Not many tears fall, but what few fall provide relief.
I have Blackfoot, Cherokee, Crow, and Hopi (which I just recently found out about)in my veins. One of these days I plan to do some research.
I like the quote. Wonder what they are doing for his funeral.
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